


Pride

by janus_queen



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Biting, Degradation, F/F, Liberal Amounts of Seiros, Manipulation, Manuela Cameo Because We Love Manuela Here, Mild Blood, Painful Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Dynamics, Seiros - Freeform, Sexual Coercion, Vaginal Fingering, dubcon, hatefucking, spit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:15:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26032513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janus_queen/pseuds/janus_queen
Summary: The details of Edelgard's plans have somehow reached Rhea. With her options suddenly very limited, the newly crowned Empress is faced with a choice: perish along with all those conspiring against the Church, or save her life and theirs by allowing the Archbishop to test her mettle. The answer is clear.
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg/Rhea
Comments: 10
Kudos: 55





	Pride

**Author's Note:**

> Consider this canon non-compliant for obvious reasons but also because I can never remember the sequence of events in this damn game. Anyway. For clarity, this work includes:  
> -Rhea Rhea-ing and also Seiros-ing  
> -Edelgard and Rhea hating the shit out of each other  
> -Dubcon by way of coercion  
> -Limited biting, blood, and occasional spit  
> -Mild to moderate use of phrases such as "baby girl" and "little girl"  
> -A lack of lube  
> -Brief Byleth mention for the nonexistent plot  
> -My apparent recurring theme of making characters fuck immediately after waking up from an injury  
> -Everything else that's tagged
> 
> Cool? Okay, have fun.

The injuries Edelgard sustained from a mission to expel some ruffians from a small town are minor—a few scrapes and a mild concussion—but the latter had caused her to pass out on the way back to Garreg Mach, and now she rests, still rather dazed, in the locked infirmary.

...With Lady Rhea.

Rhea sits at Edelgard’s beside, fingers combing through white hair with leisure as she hums peacefully in a rich, warm voice. Despite her disdain for what the position of Archbishop represents, for what Rhea herself has allowed and perpetuated, Edelgard finds herself more at ease than she should be, safe in the infirmary or not. She sits up on the firm mattress supporting her weight, the bandages on her skin bending with the flex of her muscles. “If you don’t mind my asking, why are you here, Lady Rhea?”

Rhea twirls the tip of a white tress around her finger with the same deceptive smile on her face that she uses to fool the masses of Fódlan. “My dear, if time allowed, I’d visit each and every precious soul at the monastery, injured or not.” Her hand falls to a gentle rest atop Edelgard’s thigh, leaving the single lock of hair curled at the very end. “I also wished to speak with you on a particular, sensitive matter.” Edelgard tenses under her light touch. Logic doesn’t prevent her mind from immediately hopping to the worst scenarios as beads of sweat form on the back of her neck.

“You see, my dear Edelgard,” Rhea nearly purrs, leaning slightly closer. “I’m quite vehemently opposed to unnecessary acts of violence, and a dutiful little bird recently whispered a concerning piece of information into my ear that I couldn’t help but seek to verify myself.” The acceptable distance between them marginally decreases yet again. “Empress, surely you don’t intend to incite a war?”

Edelgard’s composed visage begins to crack under Rhea’s knowing gaze. She’s been found out; but for some reason Rhea hasn’t decided to put a swift end to her. It wouldn’t be politically sound to do away with the Adrestian Empress. Not on official terms. The culprit would be a “mysterious illness” of sorts. It’s entirely possible that a poison has already been administered and the Archbishop is here only to confirm the results. All of Edelgard’s preparation, all that planning, all those sacrifices would be for nothing if that is the case. All because she made the mistake of taking on too many common thugs at once. Edelgard grinds her teeth silently, teeming with anger at herself. Finally, she exhales heavily. “What will you do? What have you done already?”

“Rest assured no toxins have invaded your body,” Rhea says, as if reading Edelgard’s predictions play for play. “No, my dear; my intentions never seek death.” The softer she speaks, the thinner Edelgard’s patience wears. Each use of the word “dear” burrows beneath her skin and heats her blood dangerously close to a boil. For all the Empress’s noble intentions, the desire to burn down the Church of Seiros and beat Rhea into submission for her own gratification grows with each passing second.

Rhea pulls at the thin sheet covering the lower half of Edelgard’s body. “The primary purpose of my visit here today, Edelgard, is to test your mettle as Empress.” The veil over Edelgard’s legs recedes, revealing sporadically bandaged skin and a modest black pair of underwear. Edelgard glares daggers, equally furious as she is curious. Rhea responds to her expression with a look that borders on adoration but is in truth most definitely something else,  _ anything  _ else. “You are well aware that leadership of a power such as the Adrestian Empire does not come without its unsavory duties. The responsibility of atrocities innumerable will fall upon your shoulders, whether you are aware of such acts or not. Your honor will be sullied until it is no more, and that pride of yours…” A smooth hand cups Edelgard’s cheek. “Yes, that pride of yours will be nothing but a hindrance to you.”

“With all due respect, I beg to differ,” Edelgard snaps back, acid dripping from each syllable. The honesty of her tone in turn draws out a glimpse of Rhea’s malevolence. The Archbishop’s subtle smile curls into an arrogant grin, a sight that fills Edelgard with both validation and disgust.

Rhea sighs in a way that seems almost playful, then runs her thumb over Edelgard’s lip. “Then beg, Edelgard. If you wish to become an effective ruler, you must do away with your pride. And who better to give it to? In exchange, I will spare you and your conspirators.” Without warning, she steals a swift kiss from Edelgard’s lips. “It’s a fine deal. You have only pleasure and life to gain.”

“What the hell is your angle, witch?” Edelgard spits. “You don’t honestly expect me to believe—”

“I suspect you’ll quit throwing yourself at the professor if that lust of yours is sated,” Rhea interrupts. “I’d hate to have Byleth mourn your death, so I implore you to make the right decision. Will it be your pride, or the lives of yourself and your comrades?”

The professor. Of course.

If it were just Edelgard’s life at stake, she would gladly give it up before this pride Rhea seems so intent on stripping from her. But her life is not the only one at stake, and so her choice is clear. “It seems you’re more fond of the professor than is appropriate for an Archbishop, but considering our current situation, that’s a minor detail. Isn’t it?” An uncharacteristic laugh erupts from Edelgard’s mouth, its odd rhythm spewing vulgarities without a word. “I’ll take you on, Rhea.” She places her palm over Rhea’s hand on her cheek, then squeezes it with a white-knuckled grip. “Don’t be shy. Make it hurt.”

Rhea’s response is quick and literal: a backhand to the face. Edelgard slides her tongue along her teeth as Rhea, true to her busy schedule, straddles her with haste. “That’s  _ Lady  _ Rhea.” Edelgard smirks at the taste of blood on her tongue rather than Rhea’s assertion. Rhea doesn’t seem to know what to make of the gesture, briefly watching Edelgard’s face before gripping her chin and tilting her head all the way back. “Or better yet, Lady Seiros.”

Edelgard’s next laugh is interrupted by an increase in the force of Seiros’s grip, keeping her mouth wide open. Seiros shifts her weight forward, towering over Edelgard. Her gentle smile returns, as ominous as its appearance is affable. “That laugh of yours. It annoys me so.” She tuts with scorn, her puckered lips still smiling as her tongue launches her own saliva into Edelgard’s throat.

Edelgard jolts. The movement is met with a quick, forceful hand to correct her position. “Thank me,” Seiros instructs calmly. The defiant fire in Edelgard’s eyes very quickly prompts Seiros to reiterate their situation. “Hubert may not place as much value on his own life as he does yours, but to forfeit both would be nothing short of a tragedy. Would it not?” As expected, the mention of Hubert softens Edelgard’s expression. “I’m waiting,” Seiros says, and this time Edelgard relents.

“Thank you,” Edelgard says flatly. Her face immediately flushes, the most extreme red burning at the tops of her ears. “... _ Lady… _ Seiros…”

Seiros releases Edelgard’s chin, letting it fall forward to a rest on her extended index finger. She gives a pleased hum. “I like that. Say it again.”

Edelgard’s fire sparks back to life, her eyes filled with an exuberant desire for homicide. But she complies eagerly, as if that compliance will tear Seiros limb from limb. “Thank you, Lady Seiros. Thank you, oh so much.” She’s transformed her accordance into a challenge, and Seiros is all too eager to accept.

“Petulant today, are we?” Seiros scoffs. She claims Edelgard’s lips for the second time, now far more thorough. Her tongue slips between Edelgard’s teeth, tasting the lingering remnants of blood. Edelgard bites her; Seiros bites back. Seiros bites into Edelgard’s lower lip, and then her jawline, and then her neck, nearly tearing the skin apart as she takes unmarked spots between her teeth and bruises them with ease. Edelgard grunts in a poor attempt to mask her pleasure with her pain. She reaches for Seiros’s cloak with a vague intent to remove it; with each passing second, her motions become less conscious.

The moment Edelgard grasps the intricate garment, Seiros draws blood, angry teeth digging into her shoulder. “Don’t fucking touch me. Do you understand?” Her voice is untempered, this outburst surely just a fraction of what she keeps inside. Edelgard could say the same for her own shift of temperament.

“Yes, Lady Seiros.” Edelgard winces as Seiros laps up the fresh blood. Her eager tongue continues up the side of Edelgard’s neck, to the tip of her red-hot ear, then recedes into Seiros’s mouth. Goosebumps form on Edelgard’s skin as Seiros pauses, her mouth lingering with words waiting to be spoken.

“You want me to fuck you, Edelgard,” Seiros says against Edelgard’s ear. She drops a hand between Edelgard’s legs and strokes a singular finger over her panties, as if to prove her statement. The evidence unveils itself in Edelgard’s eyes, lids slamming shut as she stifles any further reactions to the pleasant touch. “Quite badly,” Seiros adds, her tone the definition of condescending. “How unbecoming. Wanting the fingers of the Archbishop you loathe so much, deep inside you. Making your mind go numb with pleasure. A filthy, naughty heretic through and through.”

“But you’ll do it,” Edelgard quips, her breath short and her inner lip in grave danger of being chewed to oblivion. “You're having the time of your life sinning with the heretic.” Her statement ends with a half-moan half-sigh as Seiros’s finger continues to rub through her gradually dampening underwear. 

Seiros is evidently finished speaking into Edelgard’s ear, now electing to press their foreheads together and look squarely into her eyes. “You'll beg for it.”

Edelgard decides she’ll do so with the pride that Seiros hypocritically wishes to rid her of, very much intact. “Please, Lady Seiros. Pretty please.”

“I need more specificity than that,” Seiros says as she idly plucks at the hem of the cotton over Edelgard’s groin. “You’ll beg me to fuck you and you’ll beg me to let you come, little girl. You understand.”

Edelgard acquiesces, largely confident that she can keep up her bravado. “Then how is...please, fuck me.” Contempt bubbles in the pit of her stomach, cradled by attraction. “Lady Seiros, I humbly request that you fuck me.  _ Lady Seiros,  _ please put your fingers inside me and fuck me like the reprobate I am!" She raises her voice, seething in contrast to the pleading nature of her words. “Won’t you put me in my place,  _ Lady Seiros?” _

Seiros deliberates her next course of action, head slightly tilted with intrigue. “You seem very eager, Edelgard,” she observes. “Or should I say, ‘El?’”

Ah, there it is, that intent to kill shining prominently in lavender irises. For lack of better phrasing, Edelgard is fucking pissed. And undeniably, painfully horny.

“Yes,” Seiros coos. “I like that face on you, El. My wayward baby girl.” She at last pulls the moistened black fabric to the side, and plunges her finger into Edelgard’s newly accessible orifice.

“That fucking hurts, Lady Seiros,” Edelgard states with a grimace.

“Oh, but you feel more than inviting, El,” Seiros retorts. “Why, I heavily suspect that you may be a masochist.” She takes Edelgard’s lips again, muffling the groan of pain as she presses a second finger inside and Edelgard’s legs shift around her. “Don’t fight it. You love this.”

Words of denial elude Edelgard as Seiros’s fingers curl inside her, their painful haste fueling her rancor amidst a spike in pleasure. Seiros seizes her jaw again, tilts her head back, spits in her mouth for the sake of spite and nothing more as Edelgard’s yearning for blood and satiation roils, vibrating in her throat as a stifled croak. Temptation twitches in Edelgard’s fingers; she could seize Seiros’s neck at any moment, enact just a split second of retribution before the stakes of their agreement clatter to the ground cacophonously—but no. They’ve begun this abhorrent endeavor and it’s only right that they finish it.

“Hatred is a curious thing,” Seiros murmurs, deftly pressing her thumb to Edelgard’s clit. “Is it not, El?” Edelgard’s mental fortitude wavers in the wake of her body’s needs, denied and untended for far too long in favor of duty and more duty. “I’ll say it once more, you  _ will  _ beg.”

Edelgard expects Seiros to spit at her again, to say something else to defile her even more, but neither comes to fruition. Seiros simply stares at her with passive disgust, fingers like clockwork in wearing her down. Waiting.

Edelgard’s heart sinks into the heat of her twisting stomach as her hips begin to roll into Seiros’s rhythm. The seams of her self-control tear, her judgement not lost but suspended, bending ever so slightly to the will of the very object of her animosity. “Let me come,” she rasps as the remnants of her sarcasm give way to sincere desperation. “Please let me come, Lady Seiros.” A glint of satisfaction in Seiros’s eyes tells Edelgard that she’s lost. The slightest lapse has cost her her pride, and the loss fractures her indignant will. Vulnerability blooming, Edelgard lets her eyes fall shut. “I need to come, Lady Seiros. Please, let me come.”

Seiros adjusts the angle of her fingers by only a few degrees, enough to get a yelp out of Edelgard. “I am glad to see that you are on the side of peace, El.” She takes Edelgard’s lips a final time in a biting kiss as slick walls clench tight around her fingers and sturdy muscles stiffen beneath reddened skin. Seiros swallows Edelgard’s whimpers of pleasure as her fingers continue their course with a decisive lack of urgency, until—in no time at all, really—Edelgard’s body reverts to a state of near relaxation.

Edelgard tears herself away from the kiss, her right mind rushing back. Seiros withdraws her fingers with indifference. She inspects the digits, glistening with Edelgard’s arousal and specks of blood. “Hm.” She swings her leg over the side of the bed and stands up, assuming a posture befitting an Archbishop. “I believe that will do for our agreement.” She licks the juices off her fingers, again indifferent—unbearably so. “Now then, Empress. Please maintain your excellent marks in class. I trust you are aware of the high expectations set for you.” Her dismissiveness of what has just transpired unsettles and infuriates Edelgard to no end. But, it would be unwise to point out such a thing now. She’s secured the lives of her allies, if Seiros...if Rhea, is true to her word.

“Our business here has concluded,” Rhea says. “I will inform Manuela that you are displaying feverish symptoms.”

Edelgard glares silently, greatly inclined to swear her mouth off. Instead, she gives a slow nod, and Rhea smiles. “We should do this more often, Edelgard.” With those words, she takes her leave, not once looking back as she carries herself with the same poise as she always does.

And then Manuela enters the room.

Acutely aware of her exposed skin, Edelgard pulls at the bedsheet, bringing it up to her hips just as Manuela enters her line of sight. “How do you feel, Edelgard?” Manuela asks, unfortunately sober. Her eyes fall to the trail of bruises along Edelgard’s neck and shoulder, and she raises her brow. “...Hold that thought. I know just what to prescribe.” Without a single question about Rhea or the hickeys, Manuela searches the infirmary’s cupboards until she finds several substances, most of which are unlabeled. Edelgard watches in silence as Manuela concocts a thin, pale paste with the speed and ease of a true master. Before long, Manuela brings the paste to Edelgard’s bedside, as well as disinfectant, gauze, and a clean makeup sponge. With a wink, she says, “One dose of concealer.”

While many questionable events have recently occurred, Edelgard is certain of one thing: Manuela Casagranda is a saint.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Comments and concrit are always appreciated.
> 
> ...I love you.


End file.
